Company Between Us
by Cirolane
Summary: Post-LB: Susan is all alone after the death of her family, and Edmund thinks she needs a little help to start living her life again.


**Title:** Company Between Us  
**Author: **caramelsilver  
**Fandom:** Narnia  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word count:** 7400  
**Characters:** Susan Pevensie and Edmund Pevensie  
**Warnings:** Spoilers through all seven books. Smoking and drinking. One or two swear words.

**Summary:** Susan is all alone after the death of her family. Edmund is bored with being dead.

**AN:** Thank you to _ayascyte_ and _han_corrupted_ for the brilliant beta.

**Company Between Us**

It had taken her awhile, but she could finally feel when he appeared. Susan put on the other earring and said as casual as possible, "Why don't Peter and Lucy ever come?" She didn't turn to face him, because she knew that if she did, she would lose her nerve. It had been a question that had been festering in her mind ever since he started visiting her, and she just had to know.

She heard him sigh and she turned around. Edmund's eyes were sad and his expression pained. He had already lit a cigarette and Susan focused on the spiral of odourless smoke instead of looking at him.

"They can't," he said finally.

Susan tensed and furrowed her brow. "Can't? What do you mean, can't!" she snapped.

"I mean..." he trailed off and took another drag from the cigarette. "I mean they tried, but they can't." He walked over and stood in front of her immobile form.

Susan blinked. They didn't want to see her. She had hurt them so badly that they couldn't make themselves come and see her.

"Susan! Look at me!" Edmund said sternly.

Reluctantly she removed her gaze from the opposite wall and focused on Edmund. As she did so, it once again struck her how odd it was to be looking at her brother and at the same time seeing the dresser standing right behind him shimmer through. He moved his hand as if to touch her, but caught himself just in time. Instead he raised the cigarette to his lips and took a step back.

"They tried, you see," he said again, clearly frustrated. "But Lucy couldn't bear the thought of seeing you without touching you and Peter couldn't say a word without crying." He said it quickly, and the problems he described clearly bothered him, too.

Susan closed her eyes, but a few tears escaped anyway. "So they don't hate me?" she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Su! Honestly, how can you even think that!" Edmund snapped, his tone reprimanding. "They -We!- love you so much! The fact that I can't hug you right now is killing me." It really did look like he was in pain, Susan thought as she watched him pace about the room. "But yes, their choice was a selfish one." His voice was calmer now and he had stopped pacing.

"Why?" Susan asked.

"Because time doesn't work the same way there, as it does here. It's not hard to wait for you there, because they know that you will eventually come." He said this with such ease, but it stunned her, just like it did every time the subject of her death came up. He was sitting on her dresser, his arms folded, the cigarette gone. He smiled at her. His hair was just as dark as it had always been, same with his deep brown eyes. She could see the red in the discarded tie around his neck and his shirt was a crumpled mess. She could almost deceive herself that if she reached out, then she could smooth out the wrinkles in it. But she couldn't. She smiled back at him, her hands aching to touch him. She also saw the reflection of herself, from the mirror right behind him. She was pale and drawn, and she faintly thought that she couldn't go out looking like this.

"Then why are you here?" Susan asked. If it was so damn hard maybe he should just stay in heaven? Maybe that would be the best for both of them.

Edmund smiled at her tone and snapped his fingers; a lit cigarette appeared in his hand. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Susan. I'm here because you are my sister, because you are alone..." He took a drag, then he smirked, "and simply because I can."

* * *

The death of her family had hit her harder than she had ever expected it to. It had knocked her down and for months she had been unable to function. In hindsight she was ashamed of the way she had handled it. She should have been able to cope better than that. But it was a long, long time ago since she had last prepared herself for the possibility of someone in her family dying. She had been prepared before, but that had been in a place far away from here, in another time. In this time, in this place, she had simply not been prepared. The idea of her glorious, unbeatable siblings dying here, in grey and uneventful England was simply something she had never considered. She had stopped mentally preparing for that when they walked out the door, it might be the last time she saw them. Here, it was simply laughable. Which was why it had come as such a shock.

They were dead, and she was not. What now?

A year went by and she managed. She got a job and a small to place to live. She kept in touch with her uncle and her aunt, but mainly Susan kept to herself. She stopped going to parties that brought her nothing but a headache in the morning, and she stopped caring about how she looked. All in all, Susan Pevensie managed, but she was not happy.

It was only in her dreams that she felt alive again. Her dreams were filled with colour and light and the soft voice of her siblings telling her how much they loved her. Sleep was her escape and after a hard day's work as a secretary, there was nothing Susan liked more than to sleep. But slowly her dreams changed.

"You need to live again," said the sharp voice of her younger brother.

Susan stirred in her sleep. This was not how her dreams were supposed to go. They were supposed to make her feel good.

"Don't know what you mean," Susan slurred. This was the oddest dream she had ever had. She wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep. Though she couldn't see him, Susan could _feel_ Edmund rolling his eyes.

"Susan! You need to get out of this rut and become brilliant again. It hurts to see you like this."

She didn't remember the dream when she woke up, but that day seemed different. While eating breakfast she noticed the brilliant sunshine outside and it made her smile.

"Wear something yellow today." The whisper came from the corner of her kitchen and Susan spun on her heel. Did she just... no, there was no one there. And besides, it was impossible, because Edmund was... _dead._

When she walked in to work that day she had a yellow ribbon in her hair.

It continued like that for awhile. Her dreams weren't as sunny any more and at odd times she'd hear her brother's voice urging her to do things.

One Saturday morning, Susan was sitting in her kitchen, drinking tea and going through her mail. Nothing special, a few bills and an invitation to a party she had no intention of going to. She huffed.

"I think you should go to that party," Edmund said.

Susan spit out her tea and looked at him sitting at her table with unbelieving eyes. Eyes wide as saucers she looked at him silently for a whole minute. Then she screamed.

"What the hell... You are... I am not seeing this, because you are dead and I am not _mad_!" Susan yelled while standing at the other side of the room. Edmund just sat calmly at the table, watching her like he used to do before he _died._ And he was _smoking!_ The nerve of him. It actually made her calmer, because she knew she would never imagine him smoking. She had always hated that bad habit of his.

"You put out that cigarette right now, young man! This is my house and I will not have it smell horribly!" she pointed a finger at him sternly.

Edmund looked amused. "So you've concluded that you are not mad, then?" he asked casually, and taking a drag from the cigarette, ignoring her command.

"If I had invented you, then you wouldn't be smoking," Susan said primly as she sat back down. Smoking had been the topic of many of their fights. Susan absolutely despised the habit he picked up at school. When she asked him why on earth he would stuff his body full of toxins, he had just shrugged and said "The air here is so dirty anyway, what does it matter?" He had been so cynical and for a moment she forgot that she wasn't supposed to know what he meant.

He nodded. "True." He blew out a cloud of smoke. Susan instinctively started to cough, but stopped when she realised that she didn't smell or feel the smoke at all. She looked at him questioningly. He shrugged. "I'm not really here, and neither is my cigarette." She looked at him and quickly saw that indeed he wasn't really there. While she could see him clearly sitting in her kitchen chair, she could also see, if she squinted, the wood of the chair beneath him.

She nodded slowly. "Edmund? Are you ghost?"

He chuckled. "No. Yes. Not really." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "I'm dead and I'm happily dead, I have no unfinished business, except you. I'm a mirror of myself, just here to see you." His smile made her feel better than she had felt for years.

Susan smiled. "But... are you allowed?" Aren't there rules? The dead have to stay dead and the living have to keep on living?

"Well, I'm here. He hasn't stopped me," Edmund said with a shrug. "But I do know that I wasn't allowed to see you until you stopped grieving. You finally started to live your life again. Well, a little, at least."

"But you helped me!" Susan exclaimed. Now that he was here, there was no doubt in her mind that he had been in her dreams as well.

"Shh!" he said, putting a finger to his lips. "We do not speak about that." He looked around as if someone was watching, and Susan couldn't help but giggle.

"Shit. I have to go soon," Edmund said, after a while.

"Will you come back?" Susan asked, hopefully.

"Will you go to that party?" Edmund shot back. He stood up from the chair and stretched his long frame. Did ghosts feel any pain?

Susan shrugged. "If it'll make you happy, I suppose I will."

A gigantic smile appeared on Edmund's face. "Great! And don't worry, I'll be back." He started to fade.

"When?" she called out.

"Whenever I feel like it!" was the laughing reply, and he was gone.

She huffed in frustration. Death hadn't changed him much. She looked down on the invitation again. She guessed she had to phone up Anne and tell her she was coming after all.

* * *

"That dress is stunning," he said as he suddenly appeared in her bedroom.

Dressed in a green dress made out of velvet, Susan turned around to face him. "Thank you," she said with a gracious smile. It was New Years Eve and James was taking her out to dinner.

"Special occasion?" he asked.

She really wondered sometimes how her life looked to him. Because he often hinted that he knew what would happen to her, but then he'd ask questions that genuinely sounded like he didn't know the answers to. Was her life like a passing train, and if he missed a day, then there was nothing he could do about it? Or could he freeze it and visit her on any day he chose?

"It's New Years Eve," Susan answered.

"Yes, it is," Edmund said, and with glittering eyes he pulled out his hip flask. "Now remind me, how long have I been dead?" Edmund asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Susan made a disgusted noise low in her throat. "Sometimes you are just too morbid. It's been four years! Are you happy? If I could I would slap you."

He chuckled. "Yes, I know. It's delightful to be able to tease you without any threat of bodily harm."

Susan sighed and shook her head. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with you."

"Cheers!" he said before taking a swallow.

"That's a bad habit you have there. If you were alive I would've been ashamed of you," Susan said, disapprovingly.

He raised one shoulder and looked at her innocently. "Just enjoying things I can't enjoy in heaven." Susan laughed. Yes, Edmund had on many a occasion told her about the appalling lack of whiskey in heaven. He had complained so much that she was starting to suspect that he didn't come here for her at all, but for the cigarettes and the liquor.

"Yes, I know," Susan said, turning back to the mirror for some more preening.

"It really is horrible! There's no whiskey, but plenty of wine. Actually I believe I saw a _river_ made out entirely of wine! But do they have whiskey? No. Only something that looks like whiskey, but it's so strong that even _Peter_ ends up proclaiming his love for the entire room after only one glass." Edmund snorted in disgust.

The image of her older brother getting drunk after only one glass was an amusing one. Peter had always had a high alcohol limit.

"So..." Edmund said looking unsure. He was leaning against the bedroom wall, his arms folded with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He was wearing the same untied tie, like the first time he had showed up. Susan suddenly couldn't remember if she had seen him wearing anything else.

"What is it, Ed?" Susan asked, slightly worried.

Edmund looked up at her, his face blank, then suddenly his expression changed. "Nothing, nothing at all, Su," he said with a brilliant smile. Her heart sank. He was lying, she could tell. His smile wasn't genuine, but the one he used when they held court. Why was he lying to her? She was one of the few people in the world who could read him no matter what. One of three, actually. Edmund had always been a brilliant liar, which is why he was so good at what he did. The two of them had been the best diplomats anyone could ask for, and with their combined skill of reading people and their ability to lie with a straight face they almost never failed. After years of watching him lie to other people, it wasn't hard to recognize when he was doing it to her.

She opened her mouth to command him to tell her what was wrong, that she knew he was lying; but something in his eyes stopped her. He didn't want to talk about it right now. And she really didn't have the time either. James would be here any minute now.

"All right then," she said instead, her face cheery. The tick in his jaw told her that he could read her just as easily as she read him. He met her eyes and they silently agreed to talk about it some other night. It was New Years Eve, after all! "James will be here any minute."

The sparkle appeared in Edmund's eyes again. "Indeed," he murmured and pulled out the hip flask again. "I hope you'll have the most amazing evening, Su," he said. "Now, will you drink with me, for the new year?" he asked, raising his flask.

She dipped her head and picked up her glass of wine.

"For you," Edmund said.

"For the new year," Susan said and raised her glass.

The door bell rang and Edmund froze. "I guess that's my cue to leave." And suddenly Susan stood alone in her bedroom.

She looked around surprised. Frustrated she threw her hands up in the air; that boy needed to learn how to say goodbye properly.

* * *

His appearances were sporadic at best. She could never guess when he would come. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. Like he said, he came when he felt like it. Sometimes he would show up one day after the other, and other times, months passed between his visits.

She could easily understand his reasoning. He wanted to make sure that she didn't grow attached, that she didn't forget to live her life. And she didn't. Ever since she first talked to him, she had started to reconnect with her old life. She went to the parties she was invited to, as long as it didn't inconvenience her working life. She turned a deaf ear to all her girlfriends who kept on saying that working was beneath her. They kept on saying that Susan should rather channel her energy on to snagging a wealthy husband. Mostly, Susan just ignored them. She actually _liked_ working. She had never been given anything in her entire long life, and she wasn't going to start now. If Narnia had learned her one thing, it was that nothing came without hard work. And earning her own living made her feel accomplished, a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time.

Sometimes Edmund would just pop in for a quick chat, while other times they would stay up all night talking. He always looked guilty when he had to leave. He didn't talk much about being dead, unless she asked him about it. Their conversation was mostly focused on either her or their childhood. But overall she got the impression that he was happy. Dying had relieved him of all the burdens he bore when alive. There were no furrows between his brows any more, and he seemed timeless in his youthful demeanour.

"It's odd," he said one evening. They were lying on her bed, side by side, and she had finally gotten used to the slight chill that surrounded him. She had tried touching him only once, her hand had gone straight through him, and she had been cold for hours after.

"What's odd?" she asked with a yawn.

"Whenever I'm here with you, I miss my sword so much, but when I'm there I miss my cigarettes." He said it with a pout, like a spoilt child who didn't understand why he couldn't have cake _and_ pudding for dessert.

Susan looked at him and a memory of him, aged four, flashed through her mind. _"Do you believe in magic, Su?" he had asked her then. Susan was still in love with fairy tales and she made Peter play princess with her all the time, so she answered promptly, "Of course I do, Ed!" Edmund had then proceeded to hug her and said, "I do, too. Just please don't let the dragon eat me." Neither of them knew then that Edmund would soon stop believing in magic and dragons; Edmund would stop believing in lots of things. They didn't know that it would take a magic lion saving him from death to make Edmund start believing again. They didn't know that a magic lion would be the reason Susan stopped believing in fairy tales some years later. They didn't know any of this, because Edmund was four and afraid of dragons and Susan was six and looking out for her prince, so Susan hugged her little brother back and whispered, "I will never let the dragon eat you, Ed."_

A peal of laughter escaped Susan and she looked at him fondly. "Don't worry," she said, "I won't let the dragon eat you, Ed."

He looked at her oddly for a second, before laughing too.

* * *

Her siblings had been dead for three years, when Susan first met James. He was utterly charming in a way that put her a little on edge. She had dealt with charming men before and gotten terribly burned. He was also slightly arrogant and full of himself. He had too much confidence in his own importance and had a tendency to look down on other people. Still, he managed to make her laugh and she enjoyed herself in his company. He was a wonderful dancer and he made her feel safe.

He was enamoured with her beauty and at first that was all he saw. But when she constantly turned him down, he became obsessed with making her like him.

His family was wealthy and he had the best education his family's money could buy. During the war he had been too young to be a soldier, just like Peter, but he got to stay with his parents, since they had a manor in the country. She learned all of these things slowly, over time, since she refused to go out with him alone. Whenever she went to a party, he was always there, and glued himself to her side for the rest of the evening, effectively stopping any other man from approaching her.

"That man is so infuriating!" Susan raged as she came home late one night.

"I rather like him," Edmund drawled from the corner.

Susan jumped. "Edmund! You scared me."

Pumping his fist in the air, Edmund grinned. "Yes!"

Taking off her shoes, Susan rolled her eyes. He could be so childish sometimes. "How can you like him? You haven't met him!" Susan continued to rant. These days James was never far from her mind.

Edmund shrugged. "Just by looking at your reaction, I'd say he's good for you."

"What!" Susan said slowly.

"You need someone who'll challenge you, and not bore you. So far, it seems he's been doing a good job." Edmund didn't look at her incredulous face, but was instead cleaning his fingernails.

The worst thing was that Edmund was right. James never bored her, not for a minute. He could make her laugh when no one could, and when he looked at her she felt truly beautiful. But other men had done that too. Other men had made her feel all of those things and they had ended up with hurting her and hurting her subjects and country too. Men were not to be trusted. Charming, manipulating men were not to be trusted.

After three months of knowing him, Susan finally agreed to let James take her out for dinner. It had been absolutely amazing. For a few hours she had forgotten all about the bad things in her world. Time went by, and he knew when to push and when to leave her alone. Suddenly one day she realised he was a permanent fixture in her life. He had gotten so familiar and she didn't mind. James looked after her when she needed it, but he also wasn't afraid of letting her in. He gladly shared painful moments of his past, which slowly gave her he courage to open up to him.

Before she knew it, they had been together for a year, and she realised she loved him.

* * *

Susan had been angry for days. That slow, burning anger that wouldn't go away until she got to yell at the person responsible for her anger. Her fits of anger had been legendary in Narnia. It wasn't often that the gentle queen became irate, but when she did, she could hold it inside for as long as it took for her brothers to come home so she could yell at them properly. It was more often than not, Peter's and Edmund's fault, and they seemed to have a sixth sense on when to get out of Cair Paravel. But when Susan first got it in her mind to berate someone, she could wait for days. And that was just what she was doing now. Edmund had not appeared for several days, and with each passing day she got more angry. Rationally, she knew that he did not deserve as much anger as she was going to pile on him when he showed, but she had worked herself up so much that it just needed to get out.

"Hullo, Su," Edmund said as he kind of slunk into view. It was like he knew she was mad.

"You!" Susan yelled as she shot up from her chair. "This is all your fault!" She pointed her finger at him, her body screaming with fury. "Now they all think I'm completely bonkers and I was completely humiliated and it was all your fault!"

"Oi! Slow down, there, a minute, Su," Edmund said, holding up his hands in defence. "What is it that is supposedly my fault?" He stressed supposedly, like he seriously doubted it was really his fault. Susan squinted her eyes, and hated him a little bit more. That smug bastard.

"I was at a party on Saturday evening and I was speaking to Lady Hartnell," Susan began to say. "And without thinking I managed to say 'my brother thinks'. Now it's a well known fact that I no longer have brothers, because they are both _dead!_ That cow lady Hartnell was clearly looking at me like she thought I'd gone around the bend, unable to deal with your death. And this is all your fault!"

"Oh," Edmund had the good grace to look a bit ashamed. "That's unfortunate."

"Unfortunate! _Unfortunate!_" Susan screeched, and Edmund winced. "I refuse to be known as that poor crazy girl who lost her entire family and just couldn't deal, poor dear."

She could feel her control slipping and she took a cleansing breath. Remember who you are, queens don't throw things at their brother who is a ghost! Just saying that sentence inside her head made her realise how utterly unbelievable this was. Not being able to do anything else she began to laugh. "Oh, this is utterly insane." She sat down and burrowed her face in her hands. "Oh, Edmund," she whispered.

Feeling his presence beside her, and the cold ghostly feeling of him almost touching her, she looked up with tears in her eyes. "This is not good," Susan choked out.

He nodded. "I know."

"You shouldn't be here," she continued to say. Just saying the words made her chest clench painfully. She knew that she should tell him to leave and never come back, for her sanity's sake. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. It didn't matter how he shouldn't be there, because he was, and Susan just couldn't let him go. He was all she had left.

"Do you want me to go?" Edmund asked silently. She knew he would, if she told him to.

Susan was silent for a long time. "No," she said finally.

* * *

Her garden was beautiful this year. She enjoyed sitting out in the sunshine, among the flowers that never failed to remind her of her sister, going through her pupils latest homework. She was sipping tea, and just enjoying the wonderful weather, when suddenly Edmund appeared by her side.

"Hello, Edmund," Susan said, her voice light and happy. It had been years since Edmund could scare her with his sudden appearances.

He scowled. "I was so sure I'd get you this time," he said, running his hands through his hair with a semi-pout. His hair was as shaggy as it had been when he died. Susan remembered that one of the last things she ever said to Edmund while he was alive was that it was about time he cut his hair again. He had swept it away from his eyes, and with a cheeky grin he had said he'd rather not. He liked it long, it reminded him of Narnia. In those days, when Edmund said something like that, she would huff and pretend she hadn't heard what he said. In that conversation she had ignored him and snapped, _well, it's getting in your eyes._

Now, six years later, Susan couldn't help but be annoyed by the length of his hair. It wasn't suitable for a boy to have such long hair!

And Edmund, forever nineteen, grinned youthfully and said before she could comment, "No, I will not cut my hair, Su."

Readjusting her reading glasses, Susan merely sniffed, but didn't say anything. He was annoyingly good at reading her.

"What are you doing today?" he asked, before sitting down on the grass.

"Nothing!" she said. "Ever since I had to stop working, I have been going bonkers trying to fill my days."

"You have to take care of my little unborn niece after all," he said, almost touching her growing belly.

"So it's a girl then?" she asked, lightly. Edmund continuously switched between calling it his niece and his nephew, and refused to tell her what the real gender was.

Edmund opened his mouth to answer, before catching himself. "No! You will not trick me!" he said, pointing his finger angrily at her.

She giggled. Rubbing her belly, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the sun against her skin. "James wants to call it James Jr. if it's a boy. I've told him under no circumstances will that happen."

She heard him chuckle. "You will of course name it after me and Peter," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So it's a boy, then?"

"I'm not saying that. If it's a girl then you'll call her Lucy," Edmund said, twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

"You get that away from my baby," Susan said sternly.

"It won't hurt it," Edmund said while lighting it. "It won't hurt _you_ for that matter. I thought we'd covered this before?" He raised his eyebrows, and blew out a cloud of smoke.

"You are disgusting," Susan said. "Maybe it's a good thing my child won't be exposed to you!" she said, primly. A second later she regretted it. What a stupid thing to say! How can Edmund being dead ever be a good thing? She looked at him keenly, hoping he wouldn't be offended.

She should have known better than to worry. Edmund never got offended any more. He was dead, after all. What was there to be offended about?

Instead he said dreamily, "Oh, I would have been the greatest uncle in the world! So much better than your boring Uncle Peter," he said, directing his words to her belly.

Susan laughed. "Yes, you would have been an amazing uncle," she said wistfully. "I wish..." she trailed off.

"No use in wishing," Edmund said lightly, but he seemed a little sad, too.

They sat together in silence, until the sound of a door closing came from the house. "Love, are you home?" came the voice of her husband.

"In the garden," she answered.

"Bye, Su," Edmund said.

"Bye, Ed," said Susan.

* * *

The party was winding down, and Susan looked out on her garden. There were ruined balloons and confetti strewn all over the lawn. A satisfied feeling lingered in her stomach, despite the mess. Her baby boy had just turned two and they had celebrated it for all it was worth. Eddie was sleeping on his father's shoulder and Susan looked at the two of them with love. Eddie looked just like her, with his dark hair and dark eyes, but the way he acted was all James. Both father and son looked absolutely exhausted and she gently sent them to bed.

A rustle in the leaves made her turn around and Edmund loitered out. It had been a long time she had last seen him. He had appeared at his nephews birth, but after that he had been curiously sparse.

Sheepishly, he looked up at her through his eyelashes. "Hey, Su," he said, his hands hidden deep in his trouser-pockets.

Hands on her hips, Susan gave him her best _Mum_ look. "Hello," she said slowly. "Where have you been?"

He shrugged. "I'm- I'm here to tell you something," he mumbled. He fidgeted and looked nothing like the grown man he was, but more like a child afraid of his mother.

Susan frowned. This couldn't be good, Edmund had never been afraid of telling her anything his entire life. She sat down on a garden chair. "What is it?"

Continuing to avoid her eyes, Edmund scratched his head. "I can't visit you any more." He said it quickly and in one breath.

The shock was indescribable. It froze her body and made it impossible to think. She didn't deny the statement, she knew her brother well enough to know when he was being serious. She didn't plead or try to make him change his mind, because she knew it wasn't his fault. She didn't do any of these things, because there had always been a time limit on his visits. They had both known it, even though they had never talked about it. She had a life of her own now. A life filled with love and laughter and she was no longer alone.

He looked at her, his eyes filled with love and pain at the thought of leaving her. "I have no reason to be here any more," he said, his voice choked.

She nodded mutely. She understood. She really did. That didn't mean it hurt any less.

"I'll come back someday, I promise me you'll see me again. But right now there's no room for me here. And there shouldn't be. You have a life a now, Su. A family that love you and you are not alone." He was smiling now.

"I love you, Ed," Susan said, tears running down her face. "I will miss you so much."

He nodded. "I will see you soon," he said. With his face set in stone, he bowed and said with a voice she hadn't heard in almost a lifetime, "Goodbye, Queen Susan."

"Goodbye, my lord," she said with a final nod.

And then he was gone.

* * *

There were some topics they didn't talk about. They didn't mention the absence of Peter and Lucy. They didn't talk about Aslan. And they didn't mention Susan's behaviour before the crash. Susan didn't tell him about her sleepless nights and the times when she doubted she would go to heaven when she died. Edmund had no doubts about it and he mentioned it casually now and then without giving it much thought. At the merest mention of her own death, Susan would tense up. What if she went to hell? Her faith was not the same as it used to be. There was no devotional love, she just knew. She knew Aslan was real, she knew life after death was a fact and she believed in Him, simply because she knew He was there to be believed in. But was that enough? She doubted it.

"It's waiting for you, you know," Edmund said one day.

Susan looked up from her needle work. She had taken up sewing again recently, after Edmund had reminded her of how much she used to love it in Narnia. "What is?" she asked.

"Your throne stands empty waiting for you," Edmund said. It didn't seem like he was answering her question, merely continuing on his own trail of thought. His eyes seemed faraway and his face was lifted towards the roof. "In the glorious castle Cair Paravel."

It was late and Edmund had probably had a little too much to drink. Could ghosts get drunk? Susan wondered, while looking down at her needle work again.

"Cair Paravel..." she sighed. "It was destroyed many ages ago, Edmund." Susan generally tried her best to not think about such things. About all the things that were now gone, people that were dead, and places that were ruined. It only made her heart bleed and her head ache.

"In Narnia, yes," he said. "But in Aslan's Country she is bigger and more beautiful than she has ever been," he said with a sweeping motion as if to show her Cair Paravel here in her living room. "And your throne stands empty awaiting you." He looked at her with shining eyes.

Susan looked away, before snapping, "I don't like talking about my own death, Ed."

"Why?" he asked. Death had made him careless, and he didn't understand her emotions as good as he used too. He knew that death was painless, but she didn't.

Unable to meet his eyes, she said to the wall instead, "I'm afraid of dying."

He snorted. "Why on earth are you afraid of dying? You know where you are going!" Edmund looked at her, genuinely puzzled, his cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Frowning, Susan wondered how such a brilliant man could be so dense sometimes. "Edmund, how can you not understand how I'm feeling?" she huffed. "Did you leave all your braincells with your body when you died?"

Sensing that she was serious, Edmund sat up and looked at her more closely. "Do you really fear death?" he asked her.

She nodded, her eyes prickling.

"But Su! You will come to us." He said this as if it was a unbreakable fact of the universe. "Don't you know how lucky you are? You get to live a long fulfilling life here, then when you die you'll get to go to Aslan's Country. You get to have it all. I envy you so much."

"Do you really?" Susan asked, completely taken by surprise.

He nodded. "Being here with you makes me miss life like burning. Heaven is good, wonderful in fact, but it's not life. There's no..." he paused. He looked unsure if he should continue to speak. "There's no danger. There's no risk." Then he shrugged, "You can't die twice after all." He tried so hard to look nonchalant, but Susan could clearly see that he was sad. It came as a blow to the stomach. He had never given her any indication that he was unhappy, that death wasn't anything less than great. Edmund eyes were dark as he said, "I hate myself for saying it, but I miss feeling pain." He took a long drag of his cigarette. Then he looked at her and smiled. "But that is not what we were talking about. We were talking about you, and your illogical fear of death."

Susan scowled. "My fear is not illogical!" she exclaimed. "I'm not you and my faith is not as pure. I don't know where I'll end up when I die!" She sounded a little hysterical and she tried to slow down her heartbeat by taking long slow breaths.

Edmund was shaking his head again. "No, Susan, you are wrong. You are Queen Susan of Narnia. Once a king or queen of Narnia, _always_ a king and queen of Narnia. I know you are sick of hearing it, but it's true! Your subjects are waiting for you and there's no other place you can go, when your body is finally laid to rest."

Suddenly she realised that she was crying. Drying her cheeks, Susan looked at Edmund in wonder. It was true that she had been sick of hearing that sentence, promise, repeated again and again by her never wavering sister. Lucy, who never stopped believing, who never lost faith, kept saying it like it held the answer to everything. Susan had been tired of hearing it because she didn't believe it for so long. But there was something in the way Edmund had said it that was different.

Not quite ready to fully believe what Edmund was saying, Susan just nodded. Maybe he was right. Hopefully, he was right.

* * *

A racking cough made her convulse once again, and it was hard to breathe. Her coughs were getting worse, and she had difficulties with staying awake. This was it, she could feel it.

The last year had been nothing but troubles, and Susan was so _tired_. The last straw had been James dying. How dare he die before her? Hadn't she been left behind enough? While grieving her husband, Susan had caught a cold. Time went by and it never seemed to leave her body and slowly she grew weaker. Soon she didn't have the energy to get out of bed and she could not take care of herself. Her doctor would not allow her to live on her own, but pride wouldn't let her leave the house she had lived in for so many years. In the end they decided that her son and his wife would come and live with her. Susan wasn't going anywhere.

As Susan lied in her bed, unable to go anywhere, she thought that it was possibly a good thing that she wasn't on her own. There was no way she'd tell Eddie that, but it was good to know that someone was looking after her.

Night came and Susan couldn't sleep. She was getting the most peculiar feeling, that cold, chilling feeling she hadn't felt in a decade. Forcing her eyes open she looked around the room.

"Ed, are you there?" she croaked out.

A warm hand clasped hers, and she jumped. "No, Mum, it's me, Eddie, your son?"

Frowning at her son, Susan couldn't remember him entering her room. "Oh, hello dear, when did you get here?"

Eddie looked at her sadly. "I've been here all night, Mum. You have been calling for your brother," he said, with tears in his eyes.

"Yes, Ed, he should be here by now. He did promise to come see me, one last time," Susan said, happily. Somewhere deep in her mind she knew she shouldn't be telling her son this, that it was a secret and he would think her mad. But her mouth wouldn't listen to her head.

Patting her hand, Eddie said soothingly, "Uncle Edmund is dead, Mum. You remember that, right?"

Snorting at the ridiculousness of that statement, Susan said "Of course I know that!" Her voice was laced with disgust. She was not mad, or senile, and it would be nice if her son would stop treating her like she was. "What time is it?" she snapped.

"It's the middle of the night, Mum," Eddie said.

"Oh, my dear boy, you should be sleeping. Go to bed," she said, her voice soft, while she patted his hand.

He shook his head. "No, Mum. Not tonight. I'm going to stay with you. And Lucy is coming to see you in the morning!"

Susan smiled at that. Yes, her little girl, always travelling, never home. Was she coming all the way back to England just to see her old mum?

Apparently she had said that out loud, because Eddie answered, "Yes, she's coming just to see you." It seemed like he was doing an effort in keeping his voice light and happy.

"Is something the matter, poppet?" Susan asked, concerned for her oldest child.

"No," Eddie choked out. "I'm just-" he gestured towards the door. "I'm just going to go and get something to drink. Can I get you anything, Mum?"

"Some tea would be lovely," Susan said with a gentle smile. Tea, it had been ages since she had last wanted tea. As the years had gone by she had become more and more fond of coffee. All Edmund's fault of course, he who had never liked tea, would pull faces each time she made a cup. So she had tried coffee, and found, to her surprise, that she really liked it.

"Tea it is, then," Eddie said and walked quickly out of the room.

The room grew cold again and Susan said, "Stop making me cold, Ed. I'm not as resilient to your ghostly chill any more."

Gently coming into view, Edmund stood as young as he had always been, beside her bed. "Hello, Su," he said, with a big grin.

It was like a great burden had been taken off her shoulders and Susan let out a big sigh. Suddenly her body stopped aching and she felt years younger. "Edmund, you are finally here."

"Yes, I am," he said and set down beside her on the bed. He wasn't as cold now and she could almost fool herself into believing that she felt his skin against hers. It had been so long since she had last seen him. Years had passed, her children had grown up, and still he looked nineteen, while she was old and wrinkly. They sat in silence until Susan suddenly realised that he was holding her hand.

"Do you know why I'm here?" he asked gently. His eyes were filled with warmth and she felt warmer sitting here with him, than she had felt in months.

"Yes," she nodded and squeezed his hand. Either he was no longer a ghost, or she was no longer real. "I'm ready."

With one last nod, he jumped off the bed and as if she was twenty again too, she easily followed him.

_Fin._


End file.
